


Covered in the colours pulled apart at the seams

by vangoghingtohell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Colours, Death, Hasetsu, M/M, Soulmate AU, St Peterburg, VictUuri, it started so well, otayuri - Freeform, they always start fluffy, train
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vangoghingtohell/pseuds/vangoghingtohell
Summary: When you're near your soulmate, colour begins to leak into your world. When you meet them, it floods everything. But what happens to it when they're gone?





	

_Prologue_

Yuuri first saw colour at the fateful Grand Prix. It was a shade of blue, peeking from underneath Victor Nikiforov’s silvery hair. Slowly, that day, while he skated, colour had snuck into the world, albeit weakly, peeking and appearing in the strangest of places, a flash of pink here, a flash of red there, telling him his soulmate was near to him for the first time. The next day had been his catastrophic free skate. Then there had been the banquet, of which he had no memory of at all. All he had known is that he had woken the day after the banquet, tie around his head, and a pounding headache, not helped by the fact that suddenly, everything had blossomed into colour.

He had no recollection of what had happened that night, and he didn’t know who it was he had met, who it was that had brought colour to his world. He didn’t think he ever would.

A year later, the photos from the banquet had resurfaced, mere hours after his impromptu engagement, confirming his suspicions. It had been Victor. It had always been Victor. Ever since he was a kid, always Victor.

\--

“Vitya! We’re going to be late. I don’t want to be yelled at by Yakov! _Again.”_ He muttered that last word under his breath.

“I heard that!” Victor stepped into the hallway as Yuuri turned the keys in the lock. This was their routine in the off season. Every morning, except for weekends, Yuuri would bug Victor to hurry up so they wouldn’t be late to the rink, and every day, after driving through the crisp morning air of St Petersburg, they’d be at least ten minutes late to practice, and Yakov would make his displeasure clear.

In the weekends, it was romantic walks, dinner with Yuri, and the occasional night out, resulting in both of them swearing off alcohol forever the next day. For both Yuuri and Victor, it was joyous, simply revelling in one another’s company day in, day out.

Toward the end of the off-season, things began to change. Suddenly it was common for the both of them to be whisked away by various radio stations or photographers and the like, and life became a whirl of interviews and photoshoots. Eventually the time they spent together was reduced to the occasional practice that their schedules allowed, and their dinners together on weeknights. Even their weekends were slowly compromised. This was the first time the two were experiencing the pre-season media frenzy together, and it was hard on both of them.

“Vitya, when did we last take Makka for a walk together? Was it last month? I miss you. I miss getting to spend time with you.”

“I know, darling. Are you busy on Saturday?”

“Photoshoot for Chanel. What about Sunday?”

“Ah, Sunday I have an interview and a costume fitting. I might just stay over at Lilia’s for the night and come straight to practice on Monday. Do you think you could come home early on Saturday?”

“I can try.”

\--

That Saturday, for the first time in weeks, the two went on a walk together, taking Makkachin with them. The streets of St Petersburg seemed to come alive, just for the two of them. The street markets were noisier and bigger than they remembered, the colours as vibrant as when the world first changed. They walked for hours, hands entwined, Makkachin bounding with pent up energy finally being allowed to flow free. It was well past midnight by the time they returned home, walking through the quieter streets near their apartment, hugging their hot chocolates (Which, in Victor’s case, included a shot of vodka) close to their chests, walking right next to one another, cots not doing much to protect them. Only Makkachin was warm, protected by the cutest knitted sweater sent to them by an English fan. It was an image of their pair skate, Victor lifting Yuuri into the air. Makkachin loved it.

“Today was fun, Vitya.” He pecked Victor on the cheek. “We should do it again sometime.”

“The season is beginning, Yuuri, you know we won’t have time.”

“You had time to move to Japan and seduce me last season.”

“Shut up!”

Their bed welcomed them as they changed into their nightclothes and jumped in, Makkachin happily snuggling between them.

\--

Monday morning, Yuuri arrived at practice early. “SO you can be on time, as long as Victor’s not there!” Mila loved teasing Yuuri, it had become her favourite pastime since he had moved, much to Yurio’s delight. “Hey little piggy-“

“I’m eight years older than you.”

“-where’s Victor?”

“At Lilia’s. Her new house is quite far from here, and he had to get a costume fitting done.”

A thud and an angry grunt echoed around the rink as the doors on the far end slammed shut. Yakov walked up, muttering some choice words in Russian. Yuuri wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they meant. “Ah, Yuuri, on time for once, I see.”

“I didn’t have to wait for Victor this morning.” Yuuri never called Victor Vitya in front of Yakov. It didn’t seem right.

They practiced for a little while, each taking turns to warm up with some basic jumps and spins and stretches, Yakov immediately calling them out if anything was even slightly wrong.

Mila, Yuri, and Yuuri took a short break while Yakov watched Georgi, Yurio immediately pulling out his phone to text Otabek. “I didn’t think Victor would be this late, piggy. Call him or something, see where he is, Yakov will destroy him.”

“I think Victor is used to being destroyed.” Mila winked suggestively at Yuuri. Yurio snapped at her: “Fucking disgusting!” and skated off with speed that would make even an ice hockey player jealous.

“Seriously though, Yuuri, where is he?” Mila skated away too, graceful as ever.

Almost on cue, his phone lit up. It was a text from Victor. _Just waiting for the Sapsan to arrive. I missed the early train. I’ll be at the rink soon <3\. _Of course Victor would choose a high speed express train to make the short journey from the outskirts into the central city.

\--

The bustling hordes of people in the small station surprised Victor. It was to be expected, the metro hadn’t stretched this far just yet, so passengers were forced to use trains that ran on the Moscow-St Petersburg leg of the Oktyabrskaya Railway. Thankfully, he had booked a premium seat, so he’d have some peace, quiet, and a nice snack before he reached the city centre.

The sleek white and red train drew into the station, Victor one of the last to step in, realising his carriage was at the trailing end of the train. He settled himself into his seat for the short ride to Moskovsky Station.

\--

By the time practice had really, properly began, Yuuri knew that Victor’s train would have arrived at the station, and that he’d be making his way to the metro now.

He was mid-jump when it happened. Halfway through the second rotation of what was supposed to be a quadruple lutz, something happened. The sudden change shocked him out of the air and he flailed and fell onto the now grey ice. He was vaguely aware that Yakov was yelling at him but he was more preoccupied with the fact that all of the colours in the world had just disappeared. Gone. Vanished like a seam had opened somewhere and they’d all flooded away.

He didn’t stand up. Rather, he slammed his fist on the ice and he wept. Curling up as small as possible, heaving, retching sobs taking over his entire body. Yakov stopped mid-rant, too stunned to speak. Yurio skated over. “Geeze, piggy, has Yakov never told you off before?” Yuuri let out a pained moan in reply. He unfurled himself at Yurio’s touch, looking at him with big brown eyes (Yuri could see colour ever since that day at Yakov’s summer camp, when he had met Otabek without realising it. He still had no idea who it was. It was freeing, in a way.). He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Eventually, Yuri just sat down wordlessly on the ice and hugged him. They sat like that for a few minutes, Yuuri’s sobs echoing around the rink, the others standing awkwardly around him. “Y-Yurio? Has anyone ever told you what it means if your colours vanish?”

“Nyet.”

Yuri barely ever used Russian when speaking with Yuuri. 

“It means-” He heaved his chest. “It means they’re gone.”

A heavy, morbid settled over the rink as everyone processed what had happened. It was punctuated with sobbing from Yuuri, which eventually died down to quiet shivering.

\--

It didn’t take them long to find him in the twisted mass of metal that barely resembled the sleek Sapsan Express. Victor had been sitting in the last carriage, which bore the brunt of the impact. Now, it lay wedged between the platform and the other train. No one had expected the fully laden train from Vladimir to screech down the line, out of control, and slam into Carriage One at an incredible speed. It was a spectacular thing to have witnessed. One minute, two trains, one stationary, one moving. The next minute, the sounds of screams and twisting, grinding metal cutting through the normal hubbub of the station like a hot knife through butter. They said he wouldn’t have felt anything, that he’d have been there one minute and gone the next. But they always said that.

He wasn’t aware of how he had reached the terminus, but somehow, Yuuri reached the platform, pushing his way past the countless onlookers and police, to find an unrecognisable mass of colourless metal in front of him. He couldn’t tell where one train ended and the other began. The intact carriages either end of the mangled remains taunted him, the passengers inside them fine but dazed.

When they pulled him out, Yuuri was right there. Victor was utterly broken, legs and arms splayed at unnatural angles, even for a skater, blood spread across his face and chest, where the clothes had been torn off and replaced with a criss-cross of cuts and bruises. There was an open wound on his head, but the look of shock was still present on his face, but there was no life in his open, glassy eyes. As Yuuri looked on, they flickered blue, just as they’d done the first time he’d seen Victor in real life. Then it was gone and they were carrying him away and he was screaming, screaming, and no one seemed to hear him. He turned to go after the paramedics who were taking Victor, his Victor, and found himself stopped by Mila, who grabbed him with strength he didn’t know she had.

He allowed himself to break down once more, and had Mila not been holding him, he would surely have collapsed.

\--

They said it was caused by many events culminating in the disaster. A brake failure here, a communications failure there, things too small to notice going wrong.

\--

The funeral was a week later. Victor was buried in Hasetsu, near the hot springs. It made international headlines. Almost all of the skaters showed up to the funeral. Yuuri was sure he remembered seeing Yurio break down in Otabek’s arms when he stood up to say goodbye. After all, Victor was one of very few people Yuri could call a friend. Later, when Yuri’s turn to speak came, he couldn’t choke out any words at all, eventually breaking down again at the stand.

_Epilogue_

Every day without him was hell. Every day, he woke to an empty bed, returned to an empty house. They had decided to keep Makka in Japan, at the inn, but he had resolved to return to St Petersburg, and carry on with his colourless life alone. A few months ago, he couldn't have imagined a life with Victor. Now, he had to live it without him.

Three weeks later, hundreds of their fans lined the streets of Hasetsu for his funeral. He was buried with Victor.

Yuri won his next gold for them, and flew to Japan after the Grand Prix to lay it between their headstones.

Tears stained his face once more as he walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored and a friend provided me with a perfect AU prompt to write, so I did. Title comes from "Colours" by Halsey (read: The Best): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGulAZnnTKA
> 
> Leaving Kudos will water your crops, clear your skin, up your grades, and wipe the sadness of this angst from you heart (That last one's a lie but it's worth trying)


End file.
